


Impervious

by Glacial_guillotine



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers Feels, Bucky Loves Steve Rogers, Concussions, Hurt/Comfort, I Whump Who I Love, Marvel - Freeform, Marvel Universe, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Nightmares, Parasites, Sleepwalking, Steve Rogers Has Panic Attacks, Steve Rogers whump, Tony is a good friend, Whump, a little out of character, but let me live, minimal gore, yeahhhhh boi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-16 03:06:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18512626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glacial_guillotine/pseuds/Glacial_guillotine
Summary: ""Steve? Yeah, it's me-""I think-I think I... I think I need help," His voice was absolutely filled with panic, breathy pants creating static through the airways. A jolt of panic shot through Bucky's stomach as he reached for his shirt."What /happened/, Steve, where are you?" He didn't mean to yell. He really didn't."I'm sorry.. I think I might need help.""





	Impervious

**Author's Note:**

> I've already written a 'parasite' work for Peter Quill and Gamora, but I figured it could be kind of cool to see Steve go though it too!! On the list of powers Steve has, 'impervious to mind control' is listed, and I was like, uhhhh,,,, invalid.
> 
> This ones a longin'!!  
> Enjoy!!!

3:31 pm

"Truly, fascinating. Really." Steve scribbled something on a piece of paper on his desk and rolled his eyes. He set the paper on the ever accumulating stack of reports and mandates that had been handed to him the past week. Natasha sits in the high backed leather chair. She had insisted that she needed practice painting her nails, and somehow, Steve was cohered into sitting with one hand extended, covered in taupe polish, and the other trying to work. It wouldn't have been so bad if the abrasive smell of the polish didn't made his nose wrinkle and his throat burn.

"Thank you, I knew you'd agree." Neither of them were really listening to the other, as they were both in their own personal worlds. It was an arrangement they both enjoyed. Natasha mindlessly chatted about whatever was going on in her life at S.H.I.E.L.D and Steve could appreciate the company and not have to actually pay attention. 

"AND Last week he told-" A ominous, low alarm cuts through the fairly quiet room and both of their heads snapped to look each other in the eye. 

The entire facility seemed empty today and he knew there wouldn't be a lot of back up for this one. He fished his phone out of his worn jeans and didn't even struggle to unlock it the second Tony called him. 

"Did you get the message?" Steve hummed and Tony took it as a 'no.'

"There's an outbreak in northern Manhattan of those things we fought last month, and the rest of the team is out on another mission - a spy stole some tech and is causing trouble in Dubai. I'll send you the coordinates. Think you guys can handle it on your own?" There was a teasing tone behind Tony's words. He knew they could, it was just principle.

"Course. Thanks for calling."

He hung up the phone and went to stand.

\---------------- * -----------------

5:49 pm

The minute Steve stepped onto the cargo ship, he knew something was... wrong. The wind whistled through ropes and the purple shadows that were cast gave the whole situation a more eerie vibe than usual. He didn't like it. Especially since there were only a few of them, and they were possibly outnumbered. They hadn't seen any of those creatures yet.

He, Bucky, and Natasha progressed through the carrier boat with the most caution he thinks they've ever exhibited. Even Bucky, who wasn't ever as careful as the rest of them, was uneasy. Shadows bounced off the metal walls.

"Where are they?" Nat whispered to him. Her thumb ran along her gun, ready to be shot at a moments notice. A light, almost sickly yellow, allowed Steve to see the tight drawn eyebrows and frown on her face. Steve shook his head. The air absolutely reeked of presence, but they hadn't seen anything.

"Maybe they're having a par-" Bucky's attempt at a joke was cut short by a piercing scream ahead of them. Their footsteps echoed through the halls as another childlike screech sliced through the air. Steve flew into a room, twisting and turning in an attempt to locate the direction from which the scream came. 

"What?" He whispered. His heart pounded in his throat and his panting breaths filled the small room. Where was the girl and why would she be in an abandoned cargo ship in Manhattan? 

"Steve?" Bucky and Natasha rounded a corner and spotted him. They broke out in a jog to meet up with him, but before they could get but three steps, the sound of screeching metal and the repulsing smell of something burnt filled the air. 

Smoke billowed around them. Steve caught Bucky's stunned eyes before the door to the room swung shut, plummeting him into darkness.

A deep laugh echoed through the room, and he spun, bow in hand, readying himself for an attack. He sucked in air, the smell almost overpowering his concentration. He coughed into his arm, trying to keep his airway open and his mind clear. 

A pounding came from somewhere on his right, and it took him a few seconds to realize Nat's shouts sounding through the door. 

He stumbled towards it in the darkness and tried to find the door knob. There wasn't one. 

The air was thick with smoke, more than before, and Steve tried to keep himself propped up against the wall with a steady hand. He realized that he couldn't breathe without his chest heaving or his throat whistling. He needed to get out.

However, as he went to prop himself up, he realized his arms were frozen. It was as if he was stuck in a thick mud, his brain screaming at him to move. It felt like eyes were peering at him from above, and he felt a sudden agonizing pain bear into his forearms. 

He tried throwing punches, working his hardest to shake the feeling. 

There was a chuckle, it seemed, it was all kind of fuzzy, and the pressure was lifted from Steve's chest.

"Steve! Barnes is going to kick down the door!"

Her voice sounded muffled, and it almost echoed in his ears.

"Steve, MOVE. BACK!" Bucky's voice pierced through the haze in his head and he stumbled backward from the door seconds before it was blown to pieces.

There was a cloud of dust and a ringing in his ears. 'What in the actual hell just happened?' Steve thought, stumbling through the now large hole in the wall. He collided into something soft.

Steve pushed the thing away and was reaching for his blade before a voice rang out. "Hey! Hey, it's alright, are you okay?"

His friends's faces stared into his, the smoke dissipating into a thin fog around them. He swallowed and coughed a few times before nodding. Steve could barely feel the sting of his wounds, which he was strangely thankful for.

He looked around at the mass of metal that had once been a wall. Nat's bright red hair was a stark contrast to the grey rubble surrounding them. 

"Buck..."

He shook his head, black hair coming undone. Steve then noticed the smear of dark, almost black blood across his cheek. Just as Steve thought he had stopped coughing from the smoke around them, he was hit with a whole new wave of it. He steadied himself against the wall as Natasha looked around them hurriedly, looking at him with.. was that fear?

A wave of panic coursed through his stomach. Natasha never looked like that. 

"Did you find the girl?" He spun around to face Buck.

Natasha gripped his forearms so hard it must have left bruises. She must have not noticed the blood running down his arms.

He was pulled from the wall and the world spun. "Nat!?"

"We need to go. Now." He barely got a second to question her rushed, panicked tone before the walls started to vibrate. He didn't know what was happening, but it couldn't have been good. The three of them ran, almost stumbling through the ship's badly lit corridors.

Not more than a second after they had stepped onto the safety of the dock, the ship gave one last creak before exploding into a thousand hot, fiery pieces. 

Ironically, Steve felt like he was inside a firecracker that they had set off on July 4th.

Why did the three of them have such an affinity for blowing things up?

Something smelt burnt.

Oh, shit.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Natasha desperately trying to rip her jacket off, as it was on fire. He pulled the last bit of strength he had in him and spun her around, gripping the jacket and flinging it into the water to the side of him just in time.

"Thanks." She threw off her to second layer to reveal a large, nasty looking burn on her shoulder. Blue eyes met green and there was an understanding. 

The quiet air didn't last long.

"Over here! " Bucky called. Steve spotted him sprawled on the deck, a few yards away. He must have been thrown farther than he and Natasha had been. 

Steve was suddenly at his side, pressing a hand to his cheek. His face was scrunched in pain. "My ankle."

He didn't remember helping Bucky sit up. But before Bucky could cough out a thanks, the sound of a S.H.I.E.L.D plane met his ears. 

Agents poured out of the plane. Some ran towards a nearby ship and others rushed to the three of them.

Blonde hair appeared in Steve's blurry vision. He offered Clint a weak pat on the back as he crouched near Bucky. He grasped Natasha's hand and squeezed. Tony fell to his knees beside them as Natasha wheezed. The smoke had really gotten to her. 

"I never should have let you go out without any back up." Tony chided himself. Natasha shook her head plaintively and chuckled.

"You couldn't have known there would be explosives. The rest of the boat was empty, it must have been some kind of trap."

Explosives?

"No, there was something else in there.." Steve stole a look at the now burning boat. "It... it couldn't have just been explosives."

Steve's eyes drifted. They focused on the blood running down his arm soaked up by his uniform, and his stomach suddenly began feeling queasy. The blood didn't bother him, it never had.. this was something else. He could feel himself swaying, a little bit. 

Tony was now in his face, hands coming to rest on his temples. His eyes seemed scared. 

"Steve, did you hit your head?" His ears were ringing, his vision blurred and the questions from his team were distorted and echoey. 

Steve shut his eyes hard, for a few seconds, to try and keep his vision from flickering in and out. 

"I- I don' remember." His voice sounded slurred, and he didn't really know what was even happening anymore. "I just..."

Steve pulled in a sharp breath, and the world seemed to swim in front of him. Bucky saw his unfocused, sinking eyes and knew what was going to happen before anyone else did. He rushed forward and Steve slumped against him, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

"Shit!" Someone from being Bucky yelled.

Seeing only the whites of Steve's eyes as he gasped for air, Bucky was soon holding his hands to at least do /something/to help. 

Bucky struggled to lower him to the ground gently, but eventually Steve was prone on the deck, head against his chest. Bucky pushed the hair back from Steve's forehead and only then noticed how pale he had become, and the massive volume of blood flowing from his injuries. 

And he had run over to help Bucky with a /sprained ankle/. 

As they were loading Steve into the medical evac plane, Bucky pulled Natasha aside.

"Did you hear what he said before he passed out?" A bit of emotion slipped into his voice. He hoped Natasha wouldn't pick up on it, but that hope was a prayer into the void considering her training. 

She nodded, her hair swinging gently in the air as she dipped her head. 

"Yeah. Do you think there's anything to it?"

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to breathe through his smoke stung throat. 

"Maybe? At any other situation I wouldn't hesitate to say yes, but..."

Natasha slung an awkward arm over Bucky's shoulder and she nodded. They stayed silent on the way back to the chopper and hoped Steve would recover quickly, if not to get to the bottom of what the hell happened to such a simple mission. 

\-----

8:02 pm

"You were out for a while. How are you feeling?" Natasha sat on the end of his bed, mixing his pudding cup with some of the whip cream she had Clint smuggle in. He didn't even care that she had stolen the dessert, the idea of eating anything sweet made his stomach churn. 

The light still burned and water was more like an acid than relief, but he was fine. Slightly concussed, still, but mostly fine. He had his super human healing to thank for that. 

He sighed, leaning back into his propped up bed. 

"You know how I feel about Hospitals."

She almost, almost looked guilty for a split second. 

"You gave us a scare, Cap. Never thought I would see Captain America faint into The Winter Soldier's arms like a southern belle." She smirked, and he felt his own cheeks pull into something resembling a smile. 

\-----

1:22 am

As the self appointed president of the Keep Steve Out of His Own Self Destructive Path Club, the K-SOO-HO-SDPC protocol (he had to change that name),Tony made it a point to notice things about Steve. How he always gets up at the same time, how he folds his shirts, what missions he's sent on. That last one is always something Tony gets notifications for, anyways, but still.

Steve was acting weird.

Not enough for other people to notice, or raise questions, but Tony suspected it had to do with the boat mission a few weeks back. 

One particularly late night, Tony emerged from his lab to grab something to eat before heading to bed, and the common area had the closest kitchen that stocked seaweed chips. 

Steve was sitting at the bar with his head propped up by his hands. His blue eyes were stormy and vacant, and it appeared he had been getting ready to butter something as he had a knife and butter sitting across from him. 

As Tony stepped closer to him, he picked up on the smoke rolling from the toaster and the burnt toast smell permeating his kitchen. 

"Oh, fuck, Steve! The toaster!"

Tony pulled the fire extinguisher out from under the sink (recently, he had started keeping them in every room), and caught Steve moving from his seat in the corner of his vision. 

Once the burning toaster was taken care of, Tony let out a laugh before turning around to face Steve.

"Hey, don't worry about it, this place goes through toasters like paper towel rolls."

Steve still had a spaced out expression, and he held the knife in his hand loosely. 

Tony wondered if he had some kind of aversion to chilling the fuck out once in a while. 

—————-

/4:17 am/

"Hello?" Bucky propped himself up on his elbow, trying to blink the sleep from his eyes as he picked up his phone. 

"Buck?" 

Bucky was now sitting rod straight, fingers clasped tightly around his phone like a lifeline. 

"Steve? Yeah, it's me-"

"I think-I think I... I think I need help," His voice was absolutely filled with panic, breathy pants creating static through the airways. A jolt of panic shot through Bucky's stomach as he reached for his shirt.

"What /happened/, Steve, where are you?" He didn't mean to yell. He really didn't. 

"I'm sorry.. I think I might need help." 

"It's okay, Steve, I'll help you, I always do don't I?" He tried to keep his voice calm, placating. He wasn't sure if it was working. "Just tell me where you are and I'll be there." 

"There's s- so much b-blood, Bucky."

There was a beat of silence, and-

"I think 'm gonna die." 

That was the last straw. Bucky threw aside his pride and raised his eyes to the ceiling. "Mr. Ceiling? Er.. Jarvis? Can you find Steve's location?" 

"Listen, Stevie, can you tell me what's wrong? What happened, where are you...?"

"I- I don't know- I don't know where I am."

"Please, Steve, try for me?" More panted breaths filled his speakers, and it almost killed Bucky to be silent. 

"I think I can see the stars." The stars? 

A voice filled the room, and Bucky jumped. Jarvis. "Mr. Barnes, Mr. Rogers appears to be on the roof." 

Bucky took the stairs three at a time. 

When Bucky finally caught sight of Steve, there was no blood. Just him, curled in on himself, thin t-shirt billowing in the night air. 

It would have been a beautiful sight, if Steve's eyes weren't so full of panic. 

"Buck." Tear tracks ran down his flushed cheeks, and his gaze seemed barely cognizant. 

"Shh.. It's okay, you're fine, Steve, see?" He lifted Steve's shirt, placing a firm hand over his stomach. "No blood, I promise." 

Bucky pulled him into his lap and rubbed his back. 

"Let it go, Steve. It's okay." 

The dam broke. Steve's resolve crumbled and he found himself curled further into his chest, a harsh barked sob pulled from his lungs. Bucky rocked him back and forth, placing soft kisses in his hair as he whispered. He was shaking so badly that he couldn't speak, he could barely breathe, let alone see. 

What was wrong with him? 

-

9:56 am

He was looking at him like he was the last piece of cherry pie left on the table.

Something he desperately wanted, but wouldn't take, for some reason entirely unknown to Bucky.

The only difference between him and the dessert was that Steve had never looked like he wanted to fuck a cherry pie.

"Hey, Stevie." It was easy, the nickname. Something he had worked on with his therapist. "Are you feeling alright?" 

"Yes, actually, I'm good. Great, in fact." The open expression on Steve's face was a little unnerving, the half lidded eyes and tongue darting out to run over his lip.

Bucky felt a shiver go up his neck at hearing the words fall like velvet from Steve's mouth, deep and full of something Bucky hadn't ever thought would be directed at him. 

"That's- that's great. Swell." Silence, and Steve tilted his head, staring at his mouth, his flushed cheeks, like he was really observing Bucky for the first time.

"Uh- I mean, It's not like... uh.. its just good that you're feeling good. Or great. Emotionally, and physically-- or not physically, you know.. however." He was rambling, the words falling unrestrained in whispers from his lips.

Steve slinked closer to Bucky, who was wedged into the corner of the couch, book forgotten on the coffee table. 

What the fuck /was/ this?

A dream, maybe? One of the many he'd had of this moment, when his feelings for Steve were confessed and he could finally run his hands against the soft hair on the back of his head and breathe in his smell unashamed.

In a matter of seconds, Steve's mouth was less than a centimeter away from his, sandy hair blowing with the gentle breaths coming from Bucky. The tip of their noses bumped and he froze.

"I've wanted to do this for a long, long time."

The distinct flavor of spearmint is that last thing Bucky smells before soft lips press themselves to his, Steve's eyes slipping closed as his chest bumps against Bucky's.

He's hesitant at first, but as Steve runs his hands down his arms and smiles into the kiss, he slowly starts to kiss back.

It's wonderful to get lost in someone, Bucky muses, someone other than yourself. God knows he's touched starved on a good day, so this, being so close to Steve's warm skin, almost makes him want to shiver.

But there's something...off.

He can feel it in his fingers, at their insistence to push Steve's shoulder away and question him.

And the taste in his mouth is not when he imaged Steve would taste like. He imagined warm cinnamon, an almost sugar cookie sweetness, but this tasted like...mint? No, spearmint gum.

It's this fact that makes Bucky end the kiss abruptly, eyes flipping wide and hands starting to tremble. Steve hated modern gum. He said it was too strong, that a peppermint was preferable to sickly sweet. 

And since when had he started wearing such an abrasive, manly cologne like the one he was currently picking up on?

Bucky suddenly feels weird, like the air around him is somehow wrong and that it wasn't one of his closest friends sitting across from him.

Like it wasn't Steve.

"W-woah, buddy, what brought th-"

Steve's expression morphs so quickly from its usual kindness into something else entirely, a sneer turning his face into an ugly mask of something so unfamiliar, that Bucky almost gets whiplash.

A hand shoots out and grips the base of Bucky's throat, squeezing relentlessly. Bucky's fingers rake over his skin as he desperately tries to loosen Steve's grip.

Bucky's eyes are huge, wipe open, and so obviously scared it makes Steve's grip falter the slightest bit. The blonde shakes his head, trying to clear the fog and remember why he was even doing this in the first place, when that awful high pitch ringing replaces his thoughts. The hand around Bucky's neck grows tighter.

He can feel the blood pumping through his friends veins, hot and fast from the adrenaline lacing it.

"St-ve!" Little strained gasps escape from Bucky's open mouth, his head arching upwards in a desperate attempt to open his airway. The terror rolling through the air from him is almost enough to make Steve's stomach roll.

He just can't stop himself, and it's terrifying.

The noises escaping Bucky's constricted throat are painful, sounding like they're being pulled from his already damaged lungs like a dagger is pulled from a stab wound.

His eyes plead for relief, tears already forming at the corners.

It's not a problem. Steve outweighs him by at least twenty pounds, and is a half a foot taller, not to mention the super serum, and he knows that if he continues, he'll break Bucky's neck. Exactly what he needs to do.

His eyes start to roll back and his attempts to throw Steve off grow weaker by the second. Fingers brush his cheek in a last ditch attempt to shove him off, but he doesn't flinch.

There's a voice from behind him, who's origin he registers to be the red headed spy, but the only thing that matters is getting that damn ringing to stop, to finish what the voice wants him to do.

His friend's movements still as he tries to drag in wheezing breaths to no avail. While he doesn't faint, a numb dizzy bliss is overtaking his panic, and his dazed brown eyes are fluttering dangerously.

Steve can't look away. Slowly, the buzzing fades, and reality comes crashing over him like a tidal wave in a tsunami.

"Oh god-" he pulls his hand from Bucky's throat, releasing choppy breaths and fully realizing what he was doing permeating his muddled brain.

"Buck?" He whispers, heart breaking at the sight in front of him.

All of a sudden, a force equal to that of a bulldozer hits his side and he's being flung off the couch away from Bucky, who slumps, gasping listless into the arms of a waiting Clint Barton.

"What the-!" Clint curses, landing hard on his knees beside Bucky, who's head rolls against his shoulder.

Bucky's vision comes back to him little by little, until the light from the ceiling illuminates Clint's face hovering above his. He's suddenly jolting in his friends arms, terrible gasping breaths filling his ears.

His throat struggles to comply as he tries to drag in air, the precious air his lungs ache for after being deprived for so long, but he only manages great ragged wheezes that do nothing except burn his throat.

The incredible pressure in his head is becoming more manageable, but he still can't move anything but his heavy eyelids.

There's cough after cough until he's sure he's going to hack up a lung, and he can hear someone shouting something in the distance...

He can make out Steve's voice through the haze in his mind and he turns, breath still wheezing through his teeth, and stutters a simple, "Shit," before everything turns black.

 

——-

12:12 pm

Steve is a wreck. His hands are still clammy and a terrible nausea works it's way into his stomach like the flu.

Out of all the times he's gotten sick, all the days spent with pneumonia and bronchitis and terrible fever burning through his brain, nothing has hurt as much as this had.

He almost killed him.

Steve grips the stainless steel trash can so hard he dents the metal. It's been a few hours, and Bucky is recovering on the couch surrounded by the rest of the team, but it still makes Steve's vision go blurry with tears.

The hacking coughs left Bucky with no voice, but he had still tried to comfort Steve, as if he hadn't been choking the life out of him mere hours before.

Steve was still terrified he might do it again, and he forced them to bring in the toughest pair of handcuffs they could find and chain him to the fireplace.

Just to make sure he was still in control of himself.

He reaches for the bottle of ginger-ale they had left him and sips it, shakily putting the cap back on. He was offered lunch, leftover cheesy bread from the night before. 

He won't be able to stomach it, there's no question. 

The real question was, however, how long had it been since he'd last eaten? 

He wracks his brain, thinking of the thrown away napkins and peeled bananas of his usual routine, but he comes up with nothing. Absolutely nothing. 

He catches pieces of the conversation happening across the room, questions about him and what happened. The ringing is gradually subsiding, luckily, but that doesn't mean he can focus.

Suddenly, he realizes somebody is calling his name, and his head shoots up. 

"-eve, St- oh, stop with the sad puppy eyes, you know I can't stand 'em," Bucky rasps, a barely-there smirk on his face, "I'm fine!"

Steve takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. His face feels hot from shame. "It isn't a joke, Buck, I...I could have killed you."

A chuckle from Bucky dissolves in coughs, and Steve cringes. 

"A determined squirrel could have killed me, you're not that special."

"Are you sure you're okay?" 

Tony rolls his eyes, and gets up from the couch arm he was perched on. 

"I think I know what this is."

Steve stares at with big, blue tear filled eyes, and be immediately feels like shit. How could he not notice something was going on with their captain? 

He coughs, and steels his voice, "Some kind of parasite. Alien, parasite, of course; those things looked like something straight out of R.L. Stein." 

Natasha sighs and leans into the couch, arms folded and serious. "You're being controlled by something that got inside your brain." His ears are ringing a little, now. 

"We are going to get it out, Steve." 

At this, his world whites out, and the last thing he consciously recognizes is the plush carpet beneath his face. 

———

5:02 am

Steve wakes. It's peaceful, light barely showing from under the bathroom door, the complete silence. He takes a few clean breaths, mapping the pattern of the ceiling in his mind for a few moments. 

It must be late. He can just make out the way Bucky's silver arm glints in the low, soft glow of the bathroom, and Natasha's hair falls over his shoulder in a messy waterfall. 

Tony stands in the doorway, hand just leaving the door. It must be the most silent he's ever been, Steve thinks. 

"Did I-" his mouth is dry, but Tony understands. He smirks and quietly moves a chair to sit down. 

"No, surprisingly. You went down like a sack of something very heavy, not potatoes though. Too cliche. 

Steve pulls his eyes away from the man and continues to gaze at the ceiling. 

"And?" 

Tony let's out a small breath of air. "And you went berserk. We managed to get a tranq in, took you here where they removed the nasty little guy." He tapped his own ear and made a "pop" sound. "All good." 

As Steve looked around at his teammates spread all around the sterile hospital room, he had to silently agree with Tony. 

"All good."

**Author's Note:**

> Shit ending? Maybe. Let me know how you liked it, feedback is always welcome!!!


End file.
